Thank you for choosing to read my story! I do not own The Hunger Games or its characters, I only write this for fun so please let me know what you think!

Chapter Three

I wake up in my enormous and luxurious bed, surprised that I managed to sleep all the way through the night. I thought I would have been tossing and turning all night with thoughts of mother, Layle and Tilly taking over my mind but that wasn't the case. I guess the events of the previous day had exhausted me more than I thought.

I swing my legs out of the bed, although I would be more than happy to stay here all day, it's so comfortable and I don't feel like I'm days away from death. I walk over to one of the many drawers and change in to a black trousers and shirt combination; I've never been bothered by clothes so I don't care if I look like a depressed teenager attending a funeral. After all, that's what I am.

I leave my room and head for the dining car, assuming that it's almost time for breakfast, to find that Titam, Marsella and Maysilee are already there tucking in to the many delights we have on offer to us.

"Haymitch!" Titam says with a smile on his face; how can he be so happy? "Come join us, my boy!"

I look at Maysilee as I sit down, she's avoiding my gaze and instead staring at her eggs and bacon. I wonder if she's going to be playing the strong and silent type as she says very little but she doesn't come across as weak. Maybe she just hides her tears well.

After a detailed description of each dish from Marsella I quickly pile up my plate with as many delicacies as I can; if I'm going to die soon I may as well enjoy my last few meals. Marsella shoots me a disapproving look before leaving to fetch Dinium and Clo, clearly my manners are just not up to scratch.

"I trust you both had a good night's sleep?" Says Titam.

"Yes, thank you," says Maysille and I just groan in approval. I mean, really, is there any point in speaking?

Titam seems to think so as he quickly launches in to a speech about how grand the train is and how different it is from home. By the time Dinium and Clo join us I have to restrain myself from slapping him because the way he's banging on about the Capitol and its food is just embarrassing, you'd almost think he liked the Capitol.

"We'll be arriving in the Capitol in about two hours," he announces, "so until then I'm going to talk to you each individually to discuss your strategy for the games. Clo, shall we go to your room?"

Clo doesn't say a word as they both walk in to her room; she moves slowly and gracefully like a fairy flying across a cloud. I don't even know this girl and yet my heart seems to stop every time I think about what is in store for her. I can't let myself think about her, not if I'll have to kill her.

"So have you both thought about what you're going to discuss with Titam?" Dinium asks.

"Not really," says Maysilee, "I don't have any skills." I wonder if that's true, it's impossible not to doubt everyone when it comes to the Hunger Games.

"I'm sure that's not true! What about you, Haymitch?"

"Like I'm going to tell you," I say. Does he really think that I'm going to reveal any skills that he could potentially use against me? Of course, I don't have any skills but he doesn't need to know that.

Dinium smirks as if I've just said something truly hilarious and says, "Fair enough, I was only making conversation."

We spend the rest of the morning ignoring each other and return to our rooms, waiting for Titam to come and talk to us. As much as Dinium seems like a decent guy, I'm going to have to think of ways to get rid of him. I don't want to kill him but if he comes at me with a knife, I'm not just going to take it. I can't let my family see me giving up in front of the entire country.

Eventually, Titam opens my bedroom door and sits down in one of the ornate chairs in the corner of the room. I sit on the edge of the bed so that I can at least look like I want to engage in conversation.

"So, Haymitch, what have you got for me?"

"Nothing," I quickly respond.

"Nothing at all? You've never used a knife? Never run or wrestled in school?"

"Well, I mend things around the house for my mother but that's it. I'm not sporty. I'm not Dinium."

"No, you're not, but even Dinium is going to struggle without sponsors so we need to make sure we can get them on board. Have you had any ideas about how you want to portray yourself?"

"I'm not stupid, Titam, I know I'm not coming out of this! The best I can hope for is that every other tribute is as stupid as these games and they all kill each other off before I have to do anything!"

Titam sighs and stands up, probably realising that his best hope at having a victor from 12 would be to support Dinium as much as he can. "Okay, Haymitch. I'll try to think of something."

He walks out of the room and I scream in to my pillow.

Once we reach the Capitol I am quickly whisked away in to the Remake Centre where I am greeted by my so called prep team. Riosa is a scarily thin lady with blue tinted skin and is violently ripping off waxing strips from my chest. It's taking all of my will not to push her over. Antonia is massaging some strange oil in to my hair with her ridiculously long and pointy fingernails and Marcius is rubbing I-dread-to-think-what in to my skin.

I feel like a chicken that's being brushed, plucked and coated before it is put in to the oven while its tormentors discuss the trivialities of Capitol life. I know all about Plinius Hop's latest party and what a disaster it was and I still don't care.

"Okay, I think he's ready for Elerrah now," says Riosa and the three of them stand back to observe me before they nod. As they walk away I can hear them discussing that I may be handsome but I have no chance of winning the games.

I sit up as I wait for my stylist to arrive and contemplate what I'm going to do in the games. I know I'm clever, everyone tells me so, but clever will only get you so far. If I want to last longer than most of 12's tributes I need to practice with some weapons. I know I'm not coming home but I refuse to die in the initial bloodbath like most of our tributes, I want my chance to show Panem how cruel these games are. I just have to figure out how.

"Hello, Haymitch," a high pitched, melodic voice almost sings to me. I look up to see a woman who is a little bit shorter than me with straight, copper coloured hair and gold eyelashes. She's wearing a flamboyant gold dress that stops just above her knees and heels that rival Marsella's in the height stakes. "I'm your stylist, Elerrah."

"Hello."

She walks around me, examining every part of my naked body and I hate it. The prep team wouldn't let me wear a robe as they needed to completely remake me, apparently. For some reason I think of Maysilee and Clo having to undergo the same treatment and it just makes me feel sick.

"You're a handsome young man, Haymitch," she says, "you can put on a robe now."

Without hesitation I grab the robe that is hanging on the back of the door and quickly wrap it around me. "It's the opening ceremonies tonight so we're going to be dressing you as coal miners to reflect your district."

"Shocking," I say because our tributes have been dressed the same way for fifty years and, quite often, they're not wearing a great deal.

Elerrah's lips curl in to a sly smirk. "Yes, well, a good looking boy like you is going to look great in coal dust. Has Titam discussed how you're going to represent yourself?"

"No."

"Well, I can tell you're a smart boy, Haymitch, so maybe tone down the aggression and arrogance if you want to gain sponsors. I'll see you later."

She totters out of the room and I have an overwhelming urge to throw the nearest blunt object at her. They bring us here to parade ourselves in front of them, to take bets on our lives and they still think they can talk to us like we're insects on their boots!

After a luxurious dinner of roast meat and vegetables Elerrah reappears to dress me in my outfit for the opening ceremony, although 'outfit' might be too strong a word. I'm wearing the tightest of black shorts and the rest of my body is covered in black powder to give the illusion of coal dust. I have a few muscles so I don't look as bad as previous tributes but, still, I look ridiculous. Elerrah places the yellow hard hat on my head and steps back to admire her work.

"Perfect," she purrs and then flashes me a far too seductive smile. She then leads me to the chariots that we'll be riding in and I can see that Clo and Dinium are already standing next to ours' and they look terrified.

Dinium is in the exact same outfit as me and Clo has a loose, black dress on but she still looks like a child dressed as an adult. It's just not right.

"Hi, Clo," I say as I walk towards the chariot. I know I shouldn't get too close to her but if Layle were ever in this position I would hope that someone would at least try to be friendly to him.

"Hi, Haymitch," she squeaks like a mouse.

"Clo and I were just discussing the other tributes' outfits," says Dinium, "we think the guys from one look terrifying."

I turn around to see the tributes from 1 shining brightly in jewel encrusted clothes that look incredibly heavy. I suppose they're all strong enough to carry the weight with all of the training that they do.

I let out one of my many groans and turn back around. I have no problem with talking to Clo, as cruel as it sounds I know she won't last long but there's a strong possibility that I may have to kill Dinium and the less I like him the better.

Before he can say anything in response Maysilee walks up to us wearing a black bra and tight, short skirt. It's clear that she's uncomfortable as she's avoiding everyone's gaze as she approaches us. Of course, Dinium can't keep his eyes off her.

"Hi, Maysilee," I say first, just to annoy Dinium.

Her eyes shoot up towards me and I realise that this is the first time I've actually spoken to her. "Hello," she says, "we look awful."

We all chuckle, including Clo, and nod in agreement.

"Is Titam coming?" Asks Clo.

"Yeah, there he is," Maysilee replies and points towards a suited figure walking towards us with a grin. Why on earth is smiling?!

"Hello, everyone," he says. "You'd better get in to that chariot, it's starting soon."

As we're climbing up on to the chariot he's attempting to give us advice on how to standout and impress the audience but it's pointless. No one ever backs District 12 because we're always the most useless and ill equipped tributes and we never stand out because we're always dressed as coal miners. What hope have we got?

As Titam walks away I catch the eye of one the tributes from 1; she's got long, brown hair that has been intertwined with jewels and she's at least three inches taller than me. She gives me an evil smirk before turning to one of her district mates and laughing. Their chariot begins to pull away and my stomach suddenly tightens.